seeking that slippery fiction sleeve

“Where did you learn
such a word as
eviscerate?
Can you even spell it?”
“There is a thick book
in the den. It called for me
and I went unto it and I promise you
there are words far more complicated

than ‘eviscerate’ – can I spell it?
Not without difficulty
as I did not commit each letter to heart
– but I feel I could recognize it –
if it would appear while I read
anything I’d recognize
it. Maybe someday soon I can spell
it without too many stumbles. I

only ask that you not speak
of this to those who we must call
parental figures. We
are not supposed to know of words
that exceed three syllables
or are much abstract.”
Such dialog did not happen
while standing on the edge of the ridge

as the following tale
about to begin attempts to describe
for the sake of scene-setting.
It happened within embrace of an April
night; since that night both of the youthful
persons knew how to spell that word;
not only that word but several words.
They agreed they’d keep secret this they’d learned.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
This entry was posted in no idea, nonsense, playing with prosy things, poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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